


Involved

by orphan_account



Category: Monsters Inc (2001), Monsters University (2013)
Genre: Gen, Possible Character Death, Prequel References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been months since the events of Monsters Inc., and with their new jobs as Professional Comedian and CEO respectively, Mike and Sulley discover that the overhaul of the Scaring System can get into a seriously scary situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Involved

**Author's Note:**

> This story's been in my head for the longest time, and I figured it was about time to get it out. Accepting kudos and comments for writer fuel!

          Rays of morning light streamed through the window glass, and the slight cheeps of two-headed robins entered through the crack between the pane and the window ledge. A radio announcer’s voice filled the bedroom, slightly amplified above the snores racketing the owner’s mattress. 

          “Good morning, Monstropolis! It’s seven AM, skies are clear, the birds are singing, and hey. Here’s a thought. Why did the giant furball cross the road?” 

          Calculated pause. 

 _“Because he needed to get his massive behind to work on time!_ Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. What’d I say about sleeping late last night? _”_

          James P. Sullivan opened a bleary eye and gazed over his pillow. Standing next to his bed was a green, monoeyed monster leaning his arm on the table of his digital alarm clock. Sulley grumbled. “That wasn’t even funny, Mikey.”

          “Wasn’t trying to be,” Mike replied cheerily. He smacked the monster with his trusty microphone. “Up, up, up. You’ve got a salary to pay me, remember?”

          Ten minutes later, after a short stop at the bathroom to brush his teeth, the two best friends sat at opposite ends of a PVC fold-up table on repositioned couch chairs. Coincidentally, the weather proved consistent with Mike’s forecast, so they didn’t bother to turn on the lights. Instead, breakfast was served right by their penthouse windows.

          Sulley refused to participate in his usual morning workout beforehand, but Mike hadn't minded. It wasn't like the former needed it as often anymore. And now they could afford to take their own sweet time. 

          Sulley yawned. “Okay, lay it on me,” he mumbled. “What’ve you come up with this time?”

          Mike swallowed a bite of _Eyeball Crunch_ , eye gleaming. “It’s a good one. What happened when the owl lost his voice?”

          “He didn’t give a hoot.” Sulley’s eyes drifted out the window and witnessed one of the kids perform a somersault mid-leap over the jumprope. A few observers applauded.

          He turned back to Mike and picked up his spoon. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, buddy.”

          Mike scowled midway through another bite. He started with another joke, moderately chewed cereal pieces flying out of his mouth in the process. “What do you call banana peels that you wear on your feet?”

          Sulley gingerly pulled the bowl closer to his end and farther from the spray. Absently, he poured some orange juice into a aptly-proportioned glass. “Slippers.”

          “Why did the zombie decide to stay in his coffin?”

          “He felt rotten.”

          “Why was the computer so tired when it got home?”

          Sulley paused, then shrugged. “Okay, I give. Why?”

          Mike grinned. “Because it had a _hard drive._ ”

          Sulley sipped his juice quietly. Momentarily, the latter groaned. Of course the big guy wouldn't get it. He didn't even own a computer!

          When breakfast finished, things started moving again. Chores were divided quickly and efficiently: Mike's job to transfer everything to the dishwasher, and Sulley had to put the table back in storage and heft the chairs to their original positions. Minutes later, it was time to head for work. But first, clearly there was something that needed taking care of.

          Mike gathered his props and routine cue cards and stuffed them into a much-worn duffel bag. He stepped back into the main room, his roommate already by the door, assembling papers into a newer, silver suitcase. Mike approached. Then dropping the duffel bag, he held his arms wide open.

          “What is wrong with you?”

          Sulley glanced over his shoulder. Not a sound passed between them, and that was enough of an invitation for Mike to continue. He began counting down on his fingers. “You’re sleeping late, always down in the dumps, and one heck less of a conversation partner these days.” He propped his fists to his sides. “I’d be a moron not to notice. Sul, we’re partners. I want to help. And hopefully we can have it all settled so that I can get my buddy back before dinnertime.”

          The monster before him had started closing his suitcase, but stopped few inches short. He stared down, clutching the lid of the case with a tight, furry paw, saying nothing. But finally, just when Mike was about to give up and retrieve his things, he flipped the case open, took something out, and extended it out to Mike. The saddest expression occupied his face.

          “Take a look at this. First page.”

          The thing was Sulley’s clipboard. Mike glanced gingerly, took it, and flipped to the first page. A Linear Chart of the Energy Collection of Monsters Inc. over the past few months. His eye widened.

          “There’s something wrong with these figures. The arrow’s going down _._ ”

          Sulley rubbed his face with an open palm. “It’s not the chart that’s the problem. I already verified.”

          Mike searched the empty underside of the page, looking for any proof of a joke. “But why? Is it Comedy? Laughs aren’t as good as screams after all?” He scowled and looked up at his friend. “I knew it was all too good to be true.”

          “Laugh Energy’s not the problem either.” Sulley’s back faced the other monster. He seemed suddenly preoccupied with rearranging the things inside his suitcase.

          Mike gripped the hard plastic of the clipboard. “Then what is it?” 

          Sulley breathed deeply, but said nothing.

          The other monster, in his growing alarm, was beginning to lose it. “This isn’t just about you Sul - with these figures, we’ve got another Energy Crisis at stake! Now quit beating around the bush and tell m-”

          The silver briefcase slammed shut under two heavy, hairy hands, and a head turned just slightly to show an agitated profile over a wide shoulder.

          “The problem, Wazowski, is that the Monster World isn’t going to care _one bit_ when I ruin the lives of hundreds of our employees _just so that they can power their stupid vacuum cleaners!”_ Sulley wheeled around, his features stretched in feeling and accentuating the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Mike, I was up all night crunching numbers, trying to make ends meet the way we have it now. I’ve tried, and _tried -_ but none of the totals are adding up. If we’re even hoping to meet the quota for this term…”

          “Wait a minute,” Mike demanded. “I’m not following. What’s so wrong with the employees? Why are you going to have to fire them?”

          His eyes blinked, shoulders sank, and once again James P. Sullivan looked as tired as ever. “Because most of our Scarers just aren’t cut out for Comedy. They’re not like you.”

          Although it actually lasted only a few seconds, it felt like an eternity until Mike Wazowski could fully comprehend those words.

          And it made sense. Scaring wasn’t easy to walk away from. A lifetime of study and years of practice - at least six years for a college degree, and then five more for real-life experience on a Scare Floor. Scaring was hard work, weeding out the less serious of contenders. But it also highlighted the dedication of those who persevered - those who wanted the title of ‘Scarer’ more than anyone, choosing to spend the rest of their life performing the most difficult, dangerous job in the world, unable to imagine themselves doing anything else.

          But now that occupation would be gone forever. Comedy had proved much more efficient to everyone else’s needs. No wonder Sulley had been having sleepless nights. With Monsters Inc. out of their lives, it was unlikely that their friends from the Scare Floor could find anywhere else to go.

          Sulley watched his best friend's reaction. He breathed out. “I’m going to be interviewing their replacements for most of the morning. By the end of the week, we’ll be saying goodbye to our first batch of unemployed monsters. They’ll be informed by this afternoon.”

          For once, Mike didn’t know what to say. He raised the clipboard to his face and pretended to study the charts again while images of his friends raced through his mind.

          Earl Jr. Thompson, eager to live up to his father’s legacy, would be forced out of the game barely two years into the business. Mindy Zaki’d have to find some other way to sustain her double-headed triplets - with seven mouths to feed, including her own, he couldn’t imagine how she could manage them without a proper job. And Francine Roscal would definitely be getting kicked out of her apartment sooner rather than later - she had been so looking forward to the end-of-the-month paycheck that would’ve taken care of her rent dues.

          These three and at least fifteen other close friends made over the course of a decade… in one week, they’d be gone forever. An ugly feeling welled up in Mike's stomach, but he couldn’t explain why.

          “… How about Fear Co.? Maybe if you give them references, Worthington can find a place for them.”

          “No use. All the other scare companies have switched to Laugh Energy, just as we have,” Sulley replied. “Government gave them no choice once they found out how much more effective it is than screams. In fact, Worthington’s planning to hold a press conference and have it go public.”

          His brow furrowed. “He called me the other day. Wasn’t happy that we introduced the change, and can’t say I blame him. I didn’t know that it’d get so…” Sulley clenched his fingers inward. “I was just thinking of the good of the company.”

          “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” Mike looked up from the papers.

          Sulley held his gaze sadly, and released his fists. “Sorry buddy. It wasn’t just that the Board of Directors wanted it to be kept secret. I… didn’t know how you’d take it when you stayed and everyone else… left.”

          That explained the ugly feeling. Mike slowly shut the clipboard, unable to look at its contents anymore. Seeing him finished, Sulley lifted his suitcase cover and extended his other hand.

          “I’m going to need that back, buddy.”

          Mike returned the clipboard. It seemed as if the birds stopped chirping outside. The only sound in his apartment was the loud click of the suitcase latches closing. 


End file.
